


Good Boy

by Villainyandgoodcheekbones



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:22:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Villainyandgoodcheekbones/pseuds/Villainyandgoodcheekbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a Jaegercon Gift Fic for the lovely Scifigrl47, featuring Herc Hansen, Mako Mori, a boatload of feelings, and the mystical qualities of puppy drool, which, as everyone knows, heals all wounds.</p><p>Or,</p><p>Max the Bulldog saves the Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boy

 

There is a ceremony for the press, outside the Shatterdome where the light is better, everyone suitably grave and respectful in cobbled-together dress uniforms, looking the cameras right in the eye. There are speeches.

And when the cameras leave, and everyone’s collars start loosening, then they call retreat back inside, shedding jackets, and have their own ceremony.

There are no cameras, but there’s a small army of engineers swarming up a makeshift scaffold, hanging out over the open air with wrenches and cutting torches. There’s a scent of sweat and acetylene, and their arms are black with grease where they aren’t covered by  heavy leather work gloves. The Clock, capital letters you can hear, is all zeroes.

And piece by piece, it’s coming down.

Hercules Hansen stands very still, not thinking about stopped clocks and the bright bursts of fire and light, or about anything else that stops and burns. Stopped and burned. He’s tense, and it’s mixing up his tenses, and Hercules Hansen winds the leash tighter around his hand, pulling Max closer towards his feet. It’s impossible to leave him on his own anymore; he whines and paws at the doors, looks up with bewildered, canine hurt on his flat face. He whuffs quietly against Herc’s leg, while across the room, Mako Mori murmurs something in her co-pilot’s ear.

A moment later, she’s peeling away through the crowd, and Hercules Hansen finds himself suddenly unable to keep hold of the leash. Max tugs free, heading for Mako as fast as his bow-legged waddle can carry him, and all Herc can do is to call out “Don’t drool on Miss Mori!” as she crouches down to scratch Max’s ears, cooing softly in Japanese. “Haven’t seen him so riled up since—” after Sydney, after Mutavore, but before the bomb run, before the stopping and burning “a while back.” He shakes his head, nudging Max with the toe of his boot. “What’re you thinking, running off like that, eh? Thought you’d been taught better.”

Mako, still down on one knee, cradles Max’s head in her lap. “No,” she says “no, he’s a good boy.” She smiles, very gently, and cocks her head. “How has he been?”

And she isn’t, he knows she isn’t, isn’t talking about the dog. That used to be his trick too, Pentecost’s, that saying things without really saying them. She is his daughter, whatever else she may have been before.

But, Herc thinks, but he is the man’s friend, or he was, and he knows how this game is played too. “He’s alright” I’m fine. And he swallows. “Misses his Dad” And you?

For a moment, she says nothing, head bowed with her face hidden by her hair, and he wonders if this is too soon, if he misjudged again and he will be not-saying all the wrong things for the rest of his life. Her shoulders shake, and his gut twists, but she’s laughing, pushing Max back down and warding off his tongue with her hand.

“Max!” he snaps

“It’s alright” she giggles.Then, softer, “It’s alright. I’ll be alright.”

Max wags his stub of a tail while they pull down another Zero amidst a sudden hush.  Slowly, knees creaking, wondering when he got so old, Hercules Hansen sinks down onto his heels and gathers up the fallen leash. Mako’s hand over his own looks suddenly very small. Her nails are lacquered blue. “You should come see us. Both of you.”  Between them, Max sneezes and suddenly her arms are around his neck, cheek to his cheek “Promise you will, at least once.”

And suddenly his arms are sliding over her shoulders, and he squeezes once before standing, winding the leash around his hand. “I will.” He says. “I will.”

Mako Mori smiles and presses his hand one more time before she slips away, following the flicker of Raleigh’s hand over the heads of the crowd.

Hercules Hansen looks down. “Tricky little bastard. You planned all that, didn’t you?”

Max whuffs.

His hand hovers, then drops, thumb stroking behind Max’s ear.

“Good boy.”

The last Zero comes down, and the room erupts into cheers.

“Good boy.”

 

 


End file.
